The Long Road Home
by thegreenpuma88
Summary: After Revelation. It's no secret that Sarge can't stand Grif and berates him constantly. But what if the abuse wasn't just verbal? When Sarge nearly kills Grif, ugly secrets come out and Simmons and Grif are forced to confront their feelings.
1. The Truth Behind the Lie

So this is my first attempt at a Red vs. Blue fanfiction. I've written Dragonball Z fanfiction before but it's been awhile. A long while… Anyway, I have several ideas for different fanfictions but I want to try this story first. Let me know what you think please. I haven't written anything like this before but this idea seemed to just take a life of its' own. I don't really have a favorite character from RvB because I like all of the characters but my favorite pairing is definitely Grif/Simmons. Enjoy!

Summary: Set after the events of Revelation. It's no secret that Sarge can't stand Grif and routinely threatens to kill him. But in light of Grif's and Simmons' changing relationship, what if Sarge finally snaps? What if he actually tried to follow through on his threats?

Valhalla had never been as quiet or as peaceful as it was on this day. Clouds floated slowly on by in the sky; birds chirped happily as they flew in and out of the valley. The two bases that occupied the territory were silent as their occupants stirred in the early morning. This was a far cry from the military operations that had once taken place in the area, but its' soldiers would never ask for any 'real' action. But, of course, for the lazy, not-so-talented soldiers in Valhalla, life would never stay quiet for long.

Donut moved around the kitchen, busying himself with making pancakes for his teammates and cleaning up the place. Since his 'resurrection', Donut had taken it upon himself to clean up and decorate the base, seeing as nobody else on the Red team cared enough about furniture arrangement or color schemes. His near fatal gunshot wound had healed well considering the circumstances under which he had been injured.

He hummed merrily, setting a plate of piping hot pancakes on the table in front of Simmons, who was patiently waiting for breakfast to be served. His copper colored hair was combed away from his face, letting his comrades see his bright green eyes. An early riser and champion ass-kisser, Simmons was already outfitted in his trademark maroon armor, ready for a day of patrol duty with Donut.

Across from him sat his fellow team member and resident slacker, Dexter Grif. Seeing as it was fairly early in the morning (say 10 o'clock or so), Grif was in no mood to participate in team activities or even be out of bed for that matter. His dark brown hair was messily mussed and hiding his chocolate colored eyes from the Dutch-Irish staring at him from across the table. Still in his pajamas, which consisted of boxers and a white t-shirt, Grif yawned loudly, mentally adding 'take a nap' to his to-do list. But first, he needed to focus on breakfast.

Simmons chuckled under his breath at his normally orange-clad teammate; over the past couple of years, he had experienced some weird feelings toward the lazy Hawaiian. Both Spartan seemed to be feeling the same thing, but never wanted to take the first step towards something more than a mostly uncomfortable friendship. His musings about Grif were interrupted by the former mentioned soldier's stomach growling extremely loudly. Once again, Simmons laughed, only this time Grif glared at him through half-closed, sleep-filled eyes. This action only caused Simmons to laugh more, however his amusement was cut short when Sarge entered the room.

Tension immediately filled the room-Donut concentrated on serving the remainder of the pancakes to Grif and Sarge and Simmons sat up straight in his chair, greeting his superior with a 'Good morning, Sir!'. The last member at the table, Private Grif, flinched at the sight of Sarge, but didn't say a word. Sarge barely acknowledged Simmons and Donut with a tilt of his head, but stared icily at his least favorite soldier. Grif swallowed a lump in his throat, fear slowly creeping into his eyes. He blinked and turned away, back to his pancakes, ignoring the questioning look he was getting from Simmons.

Silence reigned in the kitchen as the members of the Red team ate breakfast. Simmons was aware that there was something going on between Sarge and Grif and he wasn't sure that this was a good thing. He chewed his last bit of pancake and syrup and decided it was now or never to talk to Grif.

"Hey, Grif, after you finish eating, why don't you go on patrol with me?" Simmons asked his fellow soldier. Grif stared at him for a second, trying to figure out why Simmons would want him to go with him, seeing as he was the resident slacker of the team. However, Simmons had a knowing look in his eye and Grif suddenly understood what was going on. Relief flooded through him because that meant he wouldn't be alone with Sarge at the base.

However, his relief was short-lived as he went to answer Simmons. Sarge cut him off with a harsh, "No! Grif is not going on patrol with you Simmons. Take Donut with you! Grif is going to stay here and…help…clean the base. Manual labor." He trailed off with what could be described as a sadistic grin. Grif gulped, not liking the sound of that idea.

He glanced at Simmons who gazed at him from the corner of his eye. Should he say something? Argue? Plead to go with Simmons? He opened his mouth to protest but Sarge growled at him and the argument died in his throat. Simmons replied with a half-hearted, 'Yes sir' and stood up.

"Come on, Donut. Let's get going." Simmons ordered Donut, the flamboyant lightish-red private bouncing after him. Simmons shot Grif a worried look, but just received a shrug and dismissive nod from said private. Grif watched as Simmons and Donut walked out of the base, leaving him to spend the entire day with Sarge.

The red-clad sergeant stood rigid at the doorway, his stony gaze on Grif. Grif visibly paled under Sarge's cold look and jumped when Sarge yelled, "Well? Get your keester movin'!" Grif fumbled to quickly get out of his chair and went to doing all of the chores Sarge had saved up for him. As he started to rinse off the dirty dishes from the morning's meal, Grif shook slightly. Sarge was alone with him in the base and he was in a foul mood. One wrong look or word would mean physical harm for Grif and the usually orange private wasn't sure he could take any more abuse.

He had been verbally and physically abused for years by Sarge during his enlistment. His teammates knew and even participated in the verbal abuse on occasion, but neither Simmons nor Donut know of the current nonverbal assaults.

Sweat dripped down Grif's forehead; he had been working extremely hard today. Despite his self-proclaimed laziness, he knew Sarge wouldn't hesitate to beat him simply because he missed a spot. The morning had stretched into afternoon and then early evening and Simmons and Donut were due back within a couple of hours. Both soldiers had spent the day on patrol and trading any useful information with the Blues in the valley.

Finally Grif finished scrubbing down the last toilet in their bathroom. He threw the dirty sponge into the bathroom trashcan and put the bottle of cleaner into the Red base supply closet. Yawning, Grif made his way to the kitchen; he stepped up to the sink to wash his hands of the dirt and grime accumulated from his cleaning. Closing his eyes for a second, Grif rolled his head, getting all the kinks out of his neck. He opened his eyes and grabbed the dishtowel, drying his hands off.

Checking the time once again, Grif walked over to the pantry, intent on retrieving a pre-dinner snack of Oreos. He scanned the shelves for the trademark blue and white packaging and grinned when he spotted it. Grif snatched the container of cookies and closed the pantry door, making his way over to the counter. Still smiling, he grabbed a bowl from one of the overhead cabinets and proceeded to open the package of Oreos.

His mind cleared of any thought of Sarge, Grif happily served himself a handful of Oreos, blissfully unaware of the angry Red team sergeant who had stalked into the kitchen. Sarge gripped his shotgun tightly; he had to end it tonight. He had suspected that Simmons was catching onto the secret, but the exchange at the table cemented that idea. Sarge clenched his teeth; his only option was to kill the disgusting orange soldier and to do it painfully. He had restrained his rage for too long and now…now it was time.

Sarge crept toward Grif, trusty shotgun in hand. Grif stood at the counter completely unaware of the danger he was in. A sadistic smirk covered Sarge's face as he raised his shotgun just as Grif turned around. A look of surprise and fear flashed across Grif's face; this was quickly replaced pain as the butt of Sarge's shotgun crashed into his face. Grif slammed into the kitchen counter with his side and crumpled onto the laminate floor, completely at Sarge's mercy. Gasping for breath because of his now cracked rib, Grif cried out as he curled up on the floor, Sarge's armored foot coming down again and again on his broken body.

So what did you think? Let me know what you liked and what needs work. I need constructive criticism.


	2. Truth Flows Through the River of Red

Greetings! Thanks so much for the reviews! I was so happy to receive such good feedback for the story, so…instead of posting one small chapter, I typed a big chapter for you! This chapter was actually two separate chapters in the outline for this story but once I started typing, it just kind of flowed out and kept growing. So here you go! Please review and leave suggestions and comments for me please!

Ayayne458: Thanks! Grif and Simmons are definitely canon for me. I mean, when are they ever apart really in the series?

**AgentTex**: Thanks so much! Here's your next chapter, nice and long for you.

**Rurple101**: Thanks! This story is outlined to be between 25-30 chapters long because there will be some flashbacks to explain some of the back-story I mentioned. Please enjoy!

**Shadowkat121**: Please enjoy! Thanks for the review and the 4-star rating.

Thanks for the reviews! Please enjoy your next chapter!

Sarge's booted foot came down again and again on Grif's unprotected body, bones cracking from the unrelenting force. Grif had curled up as much as physically possible, covering his face with his arms. Breathless yelps and grunts of pain escaped his bloody lips. Blood and spit spat from his mouth as each blow to his torso caused more and more harm.

The only sounds that were heard in the kitchen were Grif's cries of pain, Sarge's occasional sadistic chuckle, and wet crunching snaps. These snaps were the result of Grif's ribs breaking like twigs, fragments of the bones puncturing his lungs and hindering his ability to breathe even more.

"Sar-ge….please stop….please…" Grif's voice was barely a whisper, unable to get enough air to speak louder. Tears leaked from his tightly closed eyes, the agony of his injuries unbearable. His ordeal was worsened even further as Sarge switched to his fists and narrowed in on his face.

A sickening crunch echoed through the kitchen as Sarge landed his first punch. Grif silently howled in pain, his right hand wrapping around his broken left hand. This left his face unprotected and Sarge wasted no time in switching targets.

Grif felt something pop in his face and pain seared along his cheek and eye socket. Blood trickled into his eyesight from a hairline cut as Sarge's armored fists bit into his skin. A whimper escaped Grif's throat, quiet sobs echoing softly in the kitchen.

Never before had Sarge beat him like this. Sarge had never been this angry and sadistic or this uncontrolled in his temper. The never-ending blows continued to rain down on Grif's battered body, Sarge now adding in knees to the torso and chest in combination with the punches.

"Please….don't kill me…I'm sorry….I'll do anything….Pl-" Grif's ghostly plea fell upon deaf ears. If anything, Sarge became angrier. A throaty growl escaped Sarge as he ceased his assault on Grif. He stood up and snarled before snatching Grif by the hair.

A startled cry came from Grif, his eyes wide with fear and pain. Sarge slammed him against a shelf in the kitchen that held glasses and plates, glaring with all his might and animosity at the normally orange clad soldier. Several glasses and plates shattered, shards of glass rained down on Grif, cutting his exposed skin. Grif whimpered silently, trembling from the pain of his wounds and the anger emitting from his commanding officer.

"You stupid fucking piece of shit. You think I'm going to let you go now? I will fucking kill you!" screamed Sarge. Grif sobbed, frightened by the outburst and the promise that he was going to be murdered. What had he done to anger the Red soldier so much? Why would he want to kill so much?

Sarge cut his internal questioning short and slammed him down into the pile of broken glass. Grif cried out as he was stabbed repeatedly by the shards. His suffering was worsened when Sarge stomped on him and pushed the glass deeper into his body. The white-hot pain blinded Grif as his thoughts shifted to Simmons and the hope he would save him.

His inner musings were interrupted as Sarge started to drag him down the hallway, toward the Red base bedrooms. Grif stumbled along, unable to keep up or fight. Blood dripped from his wounds, leaving an eerie trail from the kitchen to the bedroom Grif and Simmons shared.

Sarge slammed the door open, nearly knocking it from its hidges and forcefully threw Grif headfirst into one of the walls. The beaten soldier's head snapped back, his body careening backwards towards the unforgiving cold floor. Grif was on the verge of losing consciousness, darkness overtaking his vision for a few moments. The room spun as he fought to regain awareness; he knew that Sarge would kill him if passed out.

He clawed his way back to consciousness and then wished he didn't. Pain flared in his limbs, his ribs throbbing with the beat of his heart. His head felt like it was splitting open and he couldn't keep his focus. As his vision finally cleared enough for him to see semi-clearly, he saw Sarge towering above, a macabre grin crossing his face.

Grif shook in terror, his eyes growing wide. Sarge kicked him over onto his stomach, eliciting a cry of anguish from the terrified soldier. Said soldier squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to go to his happy place. Thoughts of his death raced endlessly through his head. He wasn't getting out of this. He pleaded to whatever higher deity was listening to spare him.

In the middle of Grif's silent begging, Sarge threw himself on top of Grif, the heavy weight of his armor aggravating the orange private's injuries. A breathless moan of pain left Grif's cracked and bloody lips. Sarge snickered at the bane of his existence's torment and then proceeded to take off his chest piece and cod piece. The black bodysuit's zipper was now exposed and he began to unzip it slowly, reveling in the fear he was instilling in Grif.

At the sound of the hiss and clink of armor being removed, Grif began to struggle with all his might, ignoring the fire that burned through his limbs. Something had clicked in his head and he knew what Sarge was planning to do.

"No! Get…off! Stop!….please! Please don't….do this!" Grif yelled as loud as he could, running out of breath almost instantly. He drew a harsh slap in response, Sarge's armored hand smashing into the side of his head. Blood immediately started to stream from the resulting gash just above his ear.

Sarge took Grif's momentary distraction and used it to grab the pair of handcuffs attached to his belt. He roughly seized Grif's wrists and yanked them together behind his back. Grif screamed breathlessly in agony; his injuries protested the sudden harsh movement. Tears ran down his face, mixing with blood and sweat.

"Stop! No, Sarge, please! I'll do anything!" Grif shrieked in absolute terror, gone from the land of reason and focused solely on stopping the assault happening to him. Sarge snarled angrily, clubbing Grif in the head again. Darkness claimed his vision again and he faded briefly into unconsciousness. He fought against the heavy mist threatening to take him completely over and clawed his way back into consciousness.

By the time his vision cleared and his head stopped spinning violently, however, Sarge had found a roll of duct tape and was looming over him dangerously. Grif inhaled sharply, just before Sarge started to wrap duct tape around his head, sealing off his mouth. He began to panic and thrash, his nose and throat blocked partially with blood and saliva.

All protests died in his throat, unable to get past the tape blocking his mouth. Exhuasted, out of breath, and aching, Grif collapsed onto the cold floor, sobbing pitifully. Sarge laughed manically at his least favorite soldier's despair. Grif sobbed even harder when Sarge lowered onto him and pulled his shorts and boxers down violently, his armored hand scratching his lower back and thigh.

Pain tore through his body and his eyes flew open as Sarge entered him forcefully. Grif yelled out, the duct tape muffling his voice. He began to scream and thrash, trying to throw Sarge off, but Sarge merely took hold of Grif's arms and anchored himself to him. He continued to violate, thrusting into Grif repeatedly. Blood trickled down Grif's legs.

Grif's sobs quieted as his body began to shut down from the trauma it had endured. His eyes were half-lidded and rolled back in his head as he began to choke on the blood, saliva, and vomit clogging his windpipe. Sarge quickly pulled out, not bothering to finish. He zipped up his bodysuit and put his chest and cod piece back on.

He nudged Grif with his foot, flipping him over onto his back, enjoying the dying gurgles that could be heard. Grinning, he reached down and yanked Grif's boxers and shorts back up, relishing in the moment. He leaned in close to Grif's bloody ear, whispering, "No one will come for you. You're going to die…alone. With no one. No friends, no family, and no Simmons. No Simmons."

Sarge straightened up abruptly, hearing sounds at the front entrance to the base. 'Shit, Donut and Simmons are back. No time to hide his body. Fuck!' The red soldier growled and pulled the bedroom door open quickly. Hearing the other members of the Red team in the hallway leading to the kitchen, Sarge quickly ran toward the back entrance of the base. As he exited the base, he heard Simmons exclaim, "What the hell happened here?" and he knew that they had discovered the blood and wreckage in the kitchen. He ran straight for the Warthog and jumped in. Activating the vehicle, he slammed his foot onto the accelerator and tore out of Valhalla, heading for somewhere he could hide.

Simmons entered the base, rubbing his temples. He had thrown his helmet down at the doorway, irritated with Donut's incessant rambling. Said idiot continued to babble on behind him, removing his helmet and shaking his blonde hair loose. He growled under his breath; not only was he annoyed with Donut, he was also concerned about Grif and couldn't shake the feeling something had happened to the orange private.

"Well, I'm going to go take a shower and do my nails!" exclaimed Donut excitedly. Simmons just mumbled a reply, entering the kitchen. He planned on finding Grif and finally interrogating him about his mysterious injuries. All plans of this flew out the window the second he and Donut strolled into the kitchen. He heard himself ask out loud what happened and slowly took in the scene beforehand.

There was blood splattered onto the countertops, cabinets, and the tile. A trail of blood led from the kitchen towards the base's bedroom. The shelf that held their glasses and plates was broken and splintered; there was a pile of bloody glass in front of it. Simmons and Donut stared silently at each other; Simmons' stomach dropped, he had a hunch about what happened and who this blood belonged to. He swallowed thickly, grabbing his pistol from his leg and motioning for the pink private to do the same.

He crept down the hallway, following the blood trail. It ended at his and Grif's bedroom door. A sense of foreboding filled Simmons and he placed a hand on the doorknob. Pushing open the door, Simmons scanned the room and gasped in horror. He vaguely heard Donut cry out next to him as he rushed over the broken and bruised body of his best friend.

"Grif? Grif! Answer me! Oh God, Grif!" Simmons dropped to his knees, ignoring the pool of blood he was kneeling in. He grabbed his knife and set of handcuff keys from his supply belt and sliced open the duct tape around Grif's mouth. The tape was slicked with blood, sweat, and tears. Throwing the tape on the floor and raising Grif up to gain access to his hands, he fumbled to get the handcuffs unlocked as fast as possible without harming Grif more.

The handcuffs clattered onto the floor and Simmons gently maneuvered Grif onto floor again. He took in the soldier's injuries as he checked for a pulse with shaking hands. Pressing two fingers to Grif's neck, Simmons breathed a sigh of relief as he felt a slight heartbeat. His relief was cut short though as he leaned over Grif's mouth and nose, hovering over him watching for the rise and fall of his chest.

Simmons frowned; Grif's breaths were far too shallow and slow to be enough to keep him alive. He rose up, eyes briefly catching Donut's. Donut looked frightened and horrified at the state Grif was in. Simmons swallowed a lump in his throat and snapped out at Donut, "Donut! Call Blue base and get Doc here now! We don't have much time! Hurry up! Move it!"

Donut snapped to attention, stuttering a reply before racing out of the bedroom toward the radio. Simmons looked back down at Grif and took a deep breath. He brushed his hand briefly over Grif's forehead, squeezing his eyes shut to stave off his tears.

"Don't give up Grif. Don't give up…on me. You fight to stay alive! You hear me!"

Simmons took another deep breath and placed his lips over Grif's and breathed in two puffs of air. Until Doc arrived, he would breathe for Grif and keep him alive. Tears blurred his sight as he continued rescue breathing as he recited over and over in his head, 'Come on Grif. Stay with me. Don't leave me.'

Time seemed frozen for the maroon private as he waited helplessly for Doc to arrive. He didn't notice when Donut ran back into the room, informing him that help was on the way. He didn't notice when his lips became painted with red from Grif's blood. He didn't notice that Donut had joined him next to Grif, holding his uninjured hand. The only thing he knew was Grif's life was in his hands and on the floor, slipping away slowly.

So…do you want to kill me yet? Please let me know if you liked it. I've never written something this graphic but I think I did okay. I didn't want to go too much in detail on the rape scene but I still wanted to have it in this chapter, rather than skip over it. Please review and let me know what you think!


	3. Pain Fades Away With Time

So I was so excited about the reviews I received that I managed to type an extra long chapter for ya'll. I had a very hard time typing this chapter-this is the third version of this chapter. I struggled to write the infirmary scene too as I wasn't sure how to reveal that Grif had been raped. I hope it wasn't too bad but I'll definitely take some advice. Please enjoy the chapter and leave me a review!

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><p><strong>AgentTex<strong>: Glad you like the story so far! Hope you like this one!

**AgentDavidWashington**: Please don't kill me! See I didn't kill him…yet… Please enjoy!

**Ayayne458**: Well, he hasn't gotten his hug yet. But soon I promise!

**Shadowkat121**: I hope you liked this chapter! This one is extra long-please enjoy!

**Echo**: Here ya go. Your next chapter!

**Aniphine**: Sorry for not responding to your first review-I'm posting this on RvBfics and so I forgot to do everyone. Thanks for the reviews; I'm glad you've enjoyed the story so far. Please enjoy this chapter!

**Black Jack278:** Hope you enjoy this chapter. I'm glad you like this story-Please enjoy!

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><p>'Come on Grif. Stay with me. Fight!' Time stood still at Red base, the life of one of its' residents slowly slipping away with each beat of his heart. Dexter Grif lay motionless at the hands of his friends, Private Dick Simmons and Private Franklin D. Donut. His blood surrounded him, soaking his clothes and painted his skin an eerie red.<p>

Private Dick Simmons continued to breathe for his fallen comrade, unrelenting in his effort to save Grif. Sweat dripped down his brow, the stress of the situation taking its toll on him. Donut sat on the other side of Grif, gripping said soldier's uninjured hand. The pink private was trembling, silent tears leaking from his blue eyes.

Donut was scared that Grif wouldn't survive his injuries. He had never seen anything like this; save for the time Grif had gotten run over by the Blue's tank. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Donut sneaked a glance at Simmons. The maroon private was wearing himself out, breathing for Grif. Simmons looked angry and panicked all at once and Donut knew he was close to breaking down.

Donut's inner thoughts were cut short as he heard the rumble of a jeep just outside of the base. He looked towards the bedroom door before looking at Simmons. Simmons had paused momentarily in his rescue breathing and stared at Donut. Was this friend or foe? Had Sarge returned to finish the job? Or had Doc arrived finally?

"Get your pistol. Just in case, he's back." Simmons' voice was low as he addressed Donut. Donut nodded and let go of Grif's hand to grab his sidearm from his leg. He nervously stood up and moved towards the doorway, undoing the safety on his gun. Simmons tensed up even more as he resumed breathing for Grif. His pistol was ready, just in case Sarge barged in.

"Guys? Hello? Is anybody here?" Doc's voice echoed through the base; both soldiers breathed a sigh of relief and visibly relaxed. Simmons nodded to Donut and Donut took off to the front of the base, shouting back, "Hey we need help! Grif is hurt badly!"

As his footsteps faded away, Simmons shook his head, trying to clear his head. Tears glossed over his green eyes briefly; his emotions were running high and he felt himself starting to lose it. He shook his head again, trying to reign in his strung out feelings.

"Get it together Simmons! Grif needs you!"

As he checked Grif's vitals once again, he heard Donut's, Doc's, and Wash's voice cut through the silence of the base. Heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway and continued into the bedroom as the three soldiers raced in.

"What the hell happened to him?" exclaimed ex-agent Washington as he knelt down next to Grif. Doc gently moved Simmons out of the way, before settling in next to Grif. Simmons stood shakily, stepping back away from Grif to let Doc and Wash help him.

"Sarge…he…he…he did this. To Grif. We found him like this. He's not breathing very well. He's hurt bad," Simmons voice started off as a stutter and grew louder as his emotions started to overtake him. Tears threatened to spill over and he started to shake. Donut put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it.

Simmons took a deep shuddering breath and swallowed the giant lump in his throat that had formed. "What do you need me to do? I want to help."

Wash glanced up at him and nodded, "Run and grab a stretcher, backboard, c-collar, and oxygen mask. I need them before we can move him." Simmons didn't have to be told twice, he ran out of the room, nearly bowling over Donut.

Less than a minute later, he came barreling back into the room with the requested items. Doc grabbed the c-collar and fastened it securely around Grif's neck. Wash opened the valve on the oxygen tank and handed Doc the oxygen mask. Simmons watched as Doc fastened the oxygen mask over Grif's mouth and nose, silently thanking Wash for forcing Doc to study medicine with him just in case they needed it. If he hadn't, well, he didn't want to think about.

He blinked and realized that in the time he had been thinking and musing internally, Doc and Wash had gotten Grif fastened to the backboard and on the stretcher. Doc adjusted the mask on Grif's face, before nodding to Wash, "We need to move him now. Any longer and we might lose him."

Wash's eyes briefly flashed over to Simmons before he replied and they quickly started to move Grif out of the room. Simmons ran after them, not wanting to leave Grif's side. Donut followed them after a moment's pause, trying to ignore the bloody trail that was left in the hallway.

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><p>The doors to the infirmary banged open, Wash and Doc bringing the motionless Grif into the room. Simmons stood at the doorway, unsure if he could help and not wanting to get in their way. He flinched as he felt a hand come gently down onto his shoulder. Turning his head slightly, he saw Donut standing next to him, his eyes wet with unshed tears, but a small smile gracing his face.<p>

"You probably saved his life, ya know. He's going to be okay. He's a fighter."

Simmons nodded weakly and returned the tiny smile, "Yeah. He'll be fine." He took a deep breath and turned back to the bloody scene in front of him. Wash and Doc had already hooked Grif up to a pulse-ox monitor, inserted an IV for fluids, and started a blood transfusion. The pulse-ox monitor screen beeped loudly, signaling that Grif's blood oxygen level was too low and continuing to fall.

Simmons' breath caught in his throat and he found himself close to breaking down. He couldn't lose Grif. Not yet. He hadn't told him how he felt or that he was sorry for everything. The red-headed soldier bit down on his trembling lip, willing himself not to cry. He needed to stay strong for Grif's sake.

Doc sprang into action, unwilling to give Grif up without a fight. He quickly hooked up a suction tube, knowing that he needed to clear Grif's windpipe as quickly as possible. Wash nodded once to him and helped position Grif before they began the procedure.

Simmons winced as he watched Doc put the suction tube down Grif's windpipe, sucking out of all the blood, vomit, and saliva that had clogged it up. Grif's body jerked slightly as he did so, but Simmons was relieved to see that Grif's oxygen levels had improved.

Happy to see Grif's vitals perk up slightly, Doc proceeded to cut Grif's blood soaked t-shirt off of him to see the extent of his injuries. Everyone in the room took in a collective gasp of air at the ugly color of Grif's chest and abdomen. Aside from the blood that colored his skin, nasty looking bruising decorated his torso, evidence of the brutal beating he had endured.

Simmons felt himself clench his fists in anger; what the hell did Grif ever do to Sarge to deserve this? His fury grew as he gazed at the darkening bruises on Grif's face and arms. There were markings of fingerprints on his upper arms and yellowish-black splotches everywhere else skin was visible. He gritted his teeth, mentally swearing to rip Sarge limb from limb.

Donut patted his shoulder, sensing the growing rage in Simmons. He felt horrible for Simmons; he had known for several years that Grif and Simmons had some emotions for each other and just had never acted upon them. Sure, they had skirted around these feelings and occasionally let down their guard, but they hadn't fully accepted or come to terms with these thoughts.

Simmons took a deep breath, appreciating the fact that Donut was trying to calm him down. He knew that he was close to breaking; he had felt like this ever since he had started artificial respirations on Grif. Silently he watched as Doc cut away Grif's black shorts and his boxers, continuing his assessment of Grif's injuries. He knew Grif would have been embarrassed to be exposed in front of everyone, but given the circumstances, Doc had no other choice.

Grif's legs were covered with bruises and dried blood; his left ankle was swollen and his knees looked an icky shade of dark purple. There was still blood running from a several cuts; Doc knew they were mostly isolated to Grif's backside. He motioned for Wash to help him roll Grif. Wash nodded and stepped up, before looking at Simmons, "You sure you want to watch this? I'm not sure if you should."

Simmons shook his head and growled, "No! I'm staying. I'm not leaving him again. Last time I did…this happened." He glared across the room at Wash, daring him to say otherwise. Wash stared back at him for moment, sizing him up, before turning back to Grif. He gently grabbed Grif's elbow and lower back and slowly rolled Grif towards him. Doc assisted him and moved in to examine Grif's back and legs.

Silence reigned in the infirmary as all of the soldiers present gawked shell-shocked at the bloody gashes that covered Grif's body. Glass still lingered in some of the cuts. Despite the gruesome wounds that Grif had, nothing could have prepared the room's occupants for what they saw next.

Doc and Simmons spotted the ugly contusions on Grif's hips and thighs at the same time, both fearing what they meant. The purple-clad soldier motioned for Wash to hand him his small flashlight. With shaking hands, he received it and leaned in to scan the bruises. Upon further examination, Doc spotted dried blood trails that ended just above the back of his knees. He followed the red lines upwards and froze. His eyes rose up to meet Wash's grey ones.

Disbelief and shock colored Wash's face as the full extent of the assault on Grif became evident. Doc and Wash quickly rolled Grif back over and stood up. They hesitantly turned to face Simmons and Donut. Simmons' breathing had quickened as he witnessed the assessment of Grif's injuries. 'No, no, no, no, no! He couldn't have…oh God. Why would he? I'll fucking kill him!'

Simmons' inner anger exploded when Doc turned to look him in the eye, the silent message giving him confirmation of his fears. The room became tinted in red; he heard his heart beating loudly in his head, blood pumping crazily.

"That bastard! I'll fucking kill him! He's dead! That piece of shit is fucking dead, you hear me?" Simmons screamed loudly; swearing revenge on the Red team leader. Doc and Wash gazed compassionately at him, knowing the brutal assault on Grif would affect everyone present for months to come. Neither could bring themselves to calm the irate man; he had a perfectly acceptable reason to be furious.

Donut, however, grabbed Simmons, ignoring the cussing and swinging arms of the maroon soldier. "Simmons, stop! Listen to me!"

"No, get off me! I'll kill him!" Simmons struggled against the pink soldier's iron grip; for being so girly, Donut was really strong and unrelenting in his grasp.

"No, Simmons, listen to me! I know you're angry and hurt. But Grif needs you right now! Please! It's going to be okay!"

Simmons calmed briefly, gazing at Donut. All at once, his anger left him and he was flooded with guilt and grief. Tears sprang to his eyes and spilled over as sobs began to escape him. He all but collapsed into Donut's arms, clasping him tightly.

"Why would he do this? How could he?" Donut shushed the crying man, trying to comfort him as best he could. He gently ushered him out of the infirmary, leaving Doc and Wash to patch up Grif. Outside in the hallway, Simmons wept and mumbled incoherently, the gravity of the situation bearing down on him and leaving him in pieces.

* * *

><p>So you like it? Hate it? This is definitely not my best chapter as I had a hard time writing it but I hope you enjoyed it!<p> 


	4. When the Dust Settles

Yay! A fast update! Thanks so much for the reviews! I'm glad ya'll like the story so far. This chapter is a little short but I'm setting up for the flashback chapters. Please leave a review and let me know what you think! Enjoy!

**Shadowkat121**: Thanks so much for the kind review. I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter. Hope you like this one!

**AgentTex:** Thanks so much! Please enjoy this chapter!

**MrFluffman**: Thanks for the review! Don't worry; I will explain why Sarge did this to Grif and why the violence escalated to this.

**AgentDavidWashington**: Glad you liked the last chapter! Thanks for the review! I really appreciate it! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Ayayne458**: Thanks for the review. I normally do not do fiction-rape either, but this idea wouldn't leave me alone. Glad you've enjoyed the story; please enjoy this chapter!

**Black Jack278**: Thanks so much for the review! I'm glad you've enjoyed the last chapter. Please enjoy this one!

**Aniphine**: Thanks so much! I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thanks so much for the review. Please enjoy!

The sun's rays had just started to peek out from their nighttime cover, morning showing through slowly. But for the residents of Blood Gulch, more specifically the soldiers of Red base, their nightmare had only just begun.

Simmons hadn't slept a wink. Dark bags hung under his emerald green eyes; it had been a very long sleepless night for the maroon private. He sat in a hard plastic chair, slumped over from the stress of the night's situation. Beside him, Private Dexter Grif lay motionless in a hospital bed, patched up as best Doc and Wash could manage.

His injuries were serious and many; Sarge hadn't spared him any mercy and nearly killed him. Thanks to Doc's and Wash's intervention, Grif had somehow survived the night. Simmons glanced over his friend, noting the dark bruises that were present on his face, arms, and legs. He paused for moment on Grif's face. A nasograstic tube had been put into Grif's nose to provide him some nutrients while he slept. There was stitching along Grif's hairline, where Sarge's armored hand had sliced his skin open. And a breathing tube had been fastened into place over Grif's mouth, giving the orange private a very sickly look.

He was under heavy sedation since he couldn't breathe on his own without too much undue stress on his weakened body; because of this, a breathing tube had been inserted into Grif's windpipe. Grif also had several broken ribs and two punctured lungs as well as internal bleeding-all courtesy of Sarge. Doc had given him a biofoam injection which helped with his internal bleeding and punctured lungs but it would take time for his wounds to heal enough for him to breathe independently. The purple medic had opted not to operate on Grif's various injuries because he doubted that Grif would survive an operation.

Simmons sighed and clutched Grif's right hand even tighter. A white cast encased Grif's left hand and wrist as well as his left ankle and lower leg. Doc had set his bones last night, deciding to do this painful process while Grif was out cold. Many of his cuts were stitched up and bandaged after being cleaned to ward off infection.

Letting out a deep breath, Simmons swallowed and gently brushed a hand to Grif's battered face. His fingers trailed the side of head, softly tracing the broken cheekbone and hairline fracture in his jaw. Grif somehow had escaped major head trauma, save for a moderate concussion. But this miracle did nothing to ease the tragedy of the brutal beating.

Simmons tightly closed his eyes, holding Grif's hand close to his lips. He prayed silently that Grif would recover from Sarge's vicious assault and he begged that he be the one find Sarge. He would pay for doing this to Grif. Tears fell quietly down his face as his mind tried to wrap itself around the horror of the night's incident. Why would Sarge…rape…Grif? Why? How could he do that to him?

He laid a soft kiss to Grif's hand, vowing to never leave his side again. Grif was everything to him and it had taken a near-death experience for him to realize it.

Donut wearily continued to mop the kitchen floor, cleaning up of all Grif's dried blood. Washington was helping him, having swept up all of the shattered glass and throwing away the broken shelving. No words were exchanged between the two; each of them was trying to cope with the night's events. As Donut slowly mopped on, his thoughts suddenly seemed to be too much to bear. Tears sprang to his eyes and a lump formed in his throat. He took a shuddering deep breath, trying to keep it together and not alert Wash to his grief.

However, Wash was listening intently, knowing that the soft-hearted pink private was probably hurting just as bad as Simmons was. He sighed before turning to face Donut. The soldier's lips were quivering and his baby blue eyes were glossy as they rose up to meet David's icy blue eyes.

"I-I-I'm sor-ry! I don't kn-know wha-what came over m-m-me." The blabber of words that tumbled from Donut's mouth was a bunch of lies and both he and Wash knew it.

Wash shook his head, "Donut…its fine. You have every right to be upset."

Donut was silent; the only noise coming from him strangled gasps of air. In the blink of an eye, Donut burst into tears, collapsing onto the cold tile floor. Wash seemed unsure of what to do-after all this was the soldier he had shot and nearly murdered in cold blood. He looked around hesitantly hoping someone else would enter the base and comfort the sobbing private.

After a few seconds, it became obvious to Wash that he was the one who would have to comfort poor Donut. He took a few cautious steps forward and crouched next to Donut, placing a hand tenderly on Donut's shaking shoulder. The blonde haired man looked at him through watering eyes, before sniffling and slowly standing up.

"Th-thanks. I didn't….I didn't mean to lose it," said Donut after a couple of seconds.

"Don't worry about it. It's fine." Wash shrugged off Donut's words and went back to straightening up the kitchen, hoping the busy work would get his mind off things.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway and slowly grew louder, signaling to Simmons that someone was coming. A quiet knock echoed in the room before the door was hesitantly opened. Doc's head popped in, seeing if this was a good time to check on Grif.

"Hey, Doc," Simmons' voice was low as he spoke, his gaze never leaving Grif. Doc walked into the room, coming around the other side of Grif's bed.

"Hey, Simmons. Just here to check on Grif. See if there's been any changes," Doc said, looking at the readouts of the pulse-ox monitor. He checked Grif's IV and nasal tube before beginning to listen to Grif's lungs. Simmons nodded and watched silently as Doc looked over Grif. No one spoke for several minutes, the only sound in the room coming from the beeping of the pulse-ox monitor and the whooshing of the ventilator, breathing for Grif.

After a few minutes, Doc straightened up and looked towards Simmons, "Well…there haven't been any significant changes. His chest sounds have improved slightly, but still not enough for me to take him off the ventilator. I'll be back to check on him in a little bit."

Simmons just nodded, dismissing Doc silently. He let out a small sigh; he wanted to help Grif so badly, but there wasn't anything to do now but hope and wait. This wasn't at all like the last time Grif had been in the infirmary. No, then he could help. And he did-by giving his organs and spare parts to Grif so he could live.

'If only…if only I could do something now. I'd give anything to help you, Grif! Anything! You shouldn't be like this.'

As Simmons continued his watchful vigil over Grif, his thoughts drifted towards the past, thinking about time Grif got hit by the tank. Only this time….this time he couldn't help.

So what'd you think? I know this chapter was a little short, but I didn't want to start the flashback and then cut it off abruptly. Next chapter will be the start of the flashback stuff. I'm starting off with the tank incident but adding my own spin on it and then moving on to some other things that might explain why Sarge did this to Grif. Please leave me a review! Hope you liked!


	5. My Heart is Now Yours

Sorry for not updating sooner-I have three projects coming due and my mom just had surgery so I've been busy and haven't been able to type. Thank you for all of the reviews! I really appreciate it! So this chapter is the season 2 flashback of Grif being run over by the tank. I didn't go into a long chapter with a lot of detail because I actually plan on writing a fanfic that deals specifically with the before, during, and after of the accident and I didn't want to give away all of my ideas for it. I also wanted to get the main point across of Simmons and Grif starting to come closer. Please let me know what you think. Again, sorry for the late update!

**AgentDavidWashington**: Thanks for your review. I'm glad you enjoy this story, so far. Please enjoy this flashback chapter. Thanks so much!

**AgentTex**: It wasn't too bad looking up the medical terminology since I watch a lot of medical shows but I wanted to as realistic as I could. Thanks for the review! Glad you're enjoying the story!

**Rurple101**: Thanks so much! I want to kill Sarge too but we'll just have to wait and see how this plays out. Glad you like the story, I appreciate your feedback.

**Ayayne458:** Hope you like this flashback. I didn't want to go into too much detail because I'll be writing a story about this particular incident later but I think it turned out okay. Thanks for your review!

**Agent-Green99:** Thanks! This idea has been swimming around for a while in my head and I figured, why not? Glad you like the story. I really appreciate the review!

**MrFluffman:** Thanks so much! I really appreciate your feedback!

**Black_Jack278:** Glad you like the story. I enjoyed writing Wash and Donut together. Thanks so much for the review! And we'll just have to wait and see if Grif manages to pull through, won't we?

**Aniphine:** Thanks! I wasn't sure how to write Wash but I thought he might be unable to really cope with the situation considering his past. I really liked writing him with Donut-that was a lot of fun!

"Grif! Grif! Grif?"

Simmons' panicked yell echoed across the empty canyon surrounding red base, his green eyes wide with fear as he raced out to his fallen comrade. Sarge and Donut followed a few feet behind him, Sarge at a more leisurely pace.

As the maroon private neared his fellow soldier, a lump formed in his throat and his stomach dropped. Even from several feet away, Simmons could see the bright red blood splattered and pooling around Grif's unmoving body. He dropped to his knees and ripped off his helmet as he reached Grif, disbelief coloring his face.

Tears sprang to his eyes and his breathing became ragged as he gazed at Grif and assessed his injuries. His entire left side was practically gone, a pile of splintered bone and pancaked guts. Grif's armor had been crushed into shards of reflective orange, cracks running through the chest plate and cod piece. Blood was everywhere, continuing to seep out onto the rocky ground.

Simmons tore his gaze away from Grif's broken body up towards his helmet. With shaking hands, he removed the damaged piece, noting the cracked visor. He gently pulled away the headpiece, a sob escaping his throat as he stared at his fallen friend. Emotions overwhelmed him almost instantly; he didn't notice when Donut dropped down next to him, guilt plastered across his features. Sarge stood off to the side, not wanting to get to close. For once, he was silent, not bothering to make any derogatory remarks about his least favorite soldier.

Reaching down, Simmons carefully cradled Grif's head, studying and trying to memorize every feature of the Hawaiian's face. His normally tan skin was pale; blood trickled from his nose and his mouth. There was a fairly deep cut on the top left of Grif's forehead, blood slowly congealing. Grif's eyes were closed.

"Is he…dead?" Donut's voice cut through his grief, the guilt and worry evident in the pink private's question. Simmons turned to face the younger soldier, his eyes watery and threatening to spill over with tears. Donut had removed his own helmet; his facial expression a copy of Simmons' grief-stricken one. The red-headed private went to nod before he heard a choked gurgling noise from the seemingly dead private in his arms.

He turned his head and quickly focused on Grif, a cry of surprise escaping his lips. Grif's brown eyes were wide open and unfocused, the excruciating pain covering his features. He gagged, blood spilling out of his red-stained mouth, gasping, trying to catch his breath, choking on the blood clogging his throat.

"Grif? Hold on, don't try to speak!"

The disorientated private started to struggle and thrash, attempting to turn and look at his left side. Simmons grasped his head securely, but gently on each side, preventing Grif from being able to look. The wounded man's eyes were wide and glazed but finally focused on Simmons. Something flashed in Grif's eyes for a brief second before he lifted a shaking hand to Simmons' arm.

"Ssh….Don't try to move. We're going to help you. Please hang on, Grif. Please!" Simmons' voice cracked as emotion overcame. Grif tried to speak, blood gurgling in his windpipe. Hacking coughs rattled his frame, a fountain of blood shooting upward and staining his face and the ground around him even further.

"Grif! Stop! Stop trying to talk! Please!" Simmons pleaded with Grif, his fear overwhelming him. Hazel brown eyes met emerald green ones and Grif slowly nodded, his grip on Simmons faltering. The red-haired private snatched his hand, squeezing it tightly. He turned back to Sarge, the red commanding officer watching the scene silently.

"Sarge, help him…please."

Sarge let out a heavy sigh, slowly walking forward until he towered over his three privates: one crying, one cradling his comrade, and the last one slowly dying, blood pooling around them.

"What am I suppos'd to do abou' him, private? He's as good as dead. Might as well end his sufferin'."

"No! Sarge-you have to help him! Call Doc or do something! Please!"

Simmons was desperate. Grif was fading fast-his breathing was slowing down and his eyes kept slipping shut. Already his grip on Simmons' hands was lax, his strength almost completely gone. Sarge shook his head, as much as he hated the orange dirtbag, he deserved a quick death.

"And do what? Patch 'im up? He's missin' an arm n' a leg. What good would that do?"

"But-…" Simmons faltered and fell silent. Sarge was right. He gazed at Grif, noting his serious injuries. Not only was he missing an arm and a leg, it was obvious from the state of his torso that he had sustained massive internal bleeding. His gaze traveled up to Grif's face. Grif was staring at him through half-lidded eyes filled with pain and…something else?

Simmons swallowed the lump in his throat, closing his eyes. He couldn't lose Grif like this. As much as the two fought and argued with each other, Grif was his best friend. The only one keeping him sane out in this stupid godforsaken canyon. Thinking hard, he tried to figure out a way to save Grif. As he ran through the limited knowledge of medicine that he had, a previous conversation with Sarge popped into his head.

He glanced up and locked eyes with Sarge. He opened his mouth hesitantly before he took a deep breath and spoke, "You said you would make me a cyborg. Right?" At Sarge's nod, he continued, "Then make me one. Make me a cyborg and give Grif whatever he needs."

"Simmons? What-what are you talking about?" Donut's high voice pitched in, interrupting his thoughts. The pink private looked confused and worried, but Simmons knew he had to it. He looked back up at Sarge, eyes begging him to do the surgery. Finally the red sergeant nodded, before turning to Donut and giving him instructions, "Get inside and prep the infirmary. You'll have to assist me if we're going to keep Grif alive long enough to receive Simmons' parts."

Donut nodded shakily, before he stood up and ran for Red Base, his lightish-red armor glinting in the sun. Simmons gazed down at Grif who was nearly unconscious again, somehow managing to stay awake even through his wounds.

"It's okay, Grif. I'm going to help you. Just fight, okay? Fight." Simmons' voice was calm and soothing to the orange private, a final squeeze of his hands was his reply, before he closed his eyes. Gathering up Grif is his arm, ignoring the blood and guts that ran down his arms, Simmons and Sarge hurried into the base, Grif's life in their hands.

Time dragged on in the base, the never ending beeping of the pulse-ox monitor echoing in the otherwise quiet infirmary. Simmons sat at Grif's bedside, his green eyes staring at the sleeping soldier. An oxygen mask was fastened over Grif's mouth and nose, helping to ease the private's pained and harsh breathing. White bandages were wrapped tightly around Grif's torso and left shoulder, stretching all the way down to Grif's left hip.

Simmons sighed, ignoring the small pings of pain he was feeling. His new cybernetic enhancements helped heal his incisions fairly fast and what discomfort he did feel was taken care of by mild painkillers. Grif, however, wasn't allowed the same luxury. Sarge had flat out refused to give him any painkillers, saying that the man was too easily addicted to stuff. As a result, Grif had to suffer through the pain of his operation if his breathing and strained look on his face were any indication.

He ran a hand over his face, trying to wipe the fatigue from his being. After waking from his own operation, Simmons had been informed by Donut that Grif was still in surgery, Sarge struggling to implant his organs and body parts. Judging by Donut's tears and sagged shoulders, Grif wasn't out of the woods yet. As soon as Sarge had finished Grif's operation and Grif was in recovery, Simmons went to the infirmary to see him.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of Grif, oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, bandages covering him. He looked pale and there were bags under his eyes. His breathing was harsh and pain radiated on his rain. It was rather jarring to see Grif with a pale, freckled arm and skin. He pulled up a chair next to Grif's bedside and sat in the hard plastic, beginning his vigil next to his injured friend.

His thoughts were interrupted as Grif moaned and then whimpered softly in his sleep, alerting the maroon private to his agony. His heart rate spiked briefly as Grif's body struggled to adapt to his new parts and organs. Simmons leaned forward and placed a synthetic skin covered hand on the tan man's forehead. His fever had started to go down finally, meaning that his body was starting to accept all of Simmons' donations. The relieved soldier smiled weakly, glad to see Grif's fever finally breaking.

Grif coughed uneasily in his slumber, groaning at the movement and letting out a pained whimper. Simmons' breath stuck in his throat as he gazed at the soldier, watching his breathing carefully and ready to call for help if something happened. After Grif seemed to have stilled and returned to a somewhat relaxed state, Simmons slumped in his chair, letting out a heavy sigh. Maybe he should talk to Sarge and convince him to give Grif something for the pain.

Trailing his pale hand down the side of face, Simmons gently took Grif's left hand-his hand-and squeezed. He tried not to think about what he was feeling for Grif. How he made him feel. How he loved to spend time with him. How he was starting to think that maybe, he was in love with him. Instead he focused his thoughts on Grif recovering and getting better. Taking a deep breath, Simmons squeezed Grif's hand again and was more than surprised when Grif weakly squeezed back.

Simmons let out a yelp of shock, looking at Grif's face and seeing his eyes half-lidded and Grif grinning shakily. Pain was still evident in the Hawaiian's features and he looked like death had warmed over but he was awake. Everything would be okay. The red-haired private felt himself smile brightly, relieved to know Grif would be alright and he wouldn't lose his best friend.

"Get better, you lazy cockbite."

Grif exhaled heavily, nodding once before his eyes closed again and he fell back into an uneasy sleep. He didn't try to move his hand away from Simmons and Simmons didn't try to move his either. Instead he tightened his grip on Grif, silently thanking whatever deity that pulled Grif through.

During Grif's one week stay in the infirmary, Simmons only left a couple of times to shower, deciding to take his meals next to Grif. He slept in the chair by his bedside, keeping watch over his orange teammate. When Grif finally woke up and was coherent, it took everything Simmons had to not embrace him in a tight, bone-crushing hug. He opted to smile warmly instead and clasp Grif's donated hand in his synthetic cybernetic one and welcome his friend back to the land of the living.

When Grif smiled back, his heart fluttered and he knew everything would be okay.

So what'd you think? Good? Bad? Let me know please! The next chapter will be another flashback but this will something I cook up that isn't canon. Thanks for reading!


	6. It's a Start, At Least

Hey guys, so sorry for the long time between updates! I had a project come due along with several papers as well. This is definitely not my best chapter-I had a lot of trouble writing this one for some reason but I think that it came out okay. Thanks for all of your reviews! I hope you enjoy this chapter. As I've said before, these flashback chapters are establishing Grif's and Simmons' feelings for each other and also Sarge's hate for Grif. Some things might be unexplained for now but I don't want to give anything away so I might be vague in some areas. Let me know what you think about this chapter. Thanks again for your reviews!

**York:** So glad you like this story! I love Grif and Simmons and I really enjoy writing them Thanks for your review!

**Ayayne458:** Thanks for your review! Sarge does seem a little nicer there…but there's a reason for their relationship deteriorating. Last chapter was more to show the start to Grif's and Simmons' feelings but I hope this chapter kind of gives you a better idea of what happens between Sarge and Grif. I was vague in this chapter on purpose but I gave a hint into maybe why Sarge started abusing Grif. Hope you like!

**AgentDavidWashington:** Thanks for your review! Glad you like this story. Thanks for your understanding about the long time between updates-I hope you didn't mind this one. I'll be faster, I promise! Thanks so much!

**Rurple101:** Thanks so much! I hope you enjoy this chapter-I promise you I will be updating faster. Thanks for your review!

**MrFluffman:** Yep, you read right! I'm a DBZ fan too! Thanks for your review!

**Kiwipixel77:** Thanks so much for your review! I'm flattered! I'm glad you like this story-I was a little unsure at first about writing this because it's so different from what I normally write but I'm glad its gotten great reviews! So sorry for the long time between updates but I hope you like!

**Aniphine:** Thanks for your review! My mom is doing better-she had surgery on her arm and is now doing physical therapy. Hopefully I can start updating faster now that all of my projects are out of the way. Thanks so much!

**JuneFiction909:** Thanks! Here's your update! Don't worry, it might take a while for Sarge to get what's coming but…all in due time.

Simmons huffed angrily as trudged down the hallway in Red base toward the soldier's bedrooms. The maroon private had finally been 'forgiven' by Sarge after a trial (if it could even be called that) to determine his punishment as a traitor. However, the redheaded soldier had also been given his old responsibilities back which involved cleaning the Puma, organizing the storage room, and a variety of other menial tasks.

Sweat matted his hair down and he was in desperate need of a shower after a long patrol around the desolate box canyon. Patrol seemed to drag on with Donut's incessant ramblings about the latest celebrity breakups and fashion news and he had found himself wishing that Grif was with him instead. At least then the job would have been less boring and annoying.

As he neared the room that Grif and he shared, his thoughts wondered to the orange soldier. Something, and he wasn't sure what, was going on between Grif and Sarge. All morning Sarge had been more harsh than normal towards Grif and he wasn't sure why. Then Sarge had ordered Donut to go with him on patrol instead of Grif.

Simmons shook his head and ignored the uneasy feeling he had; he grabbed the doorknob and pushed the door open. The sight of Grif instantly made him falter, his eyes wide in concern and a knot growing in his stomach. Grif sat on his bed; his posture slumped, defeated, while he held an ice pack gingerly to his cheek. There was dried blood along his hairline and a couple of blood trails that led toward his eyebrow.

"Grif? What…what the hell happened?" Simmons demanded as he rushed forward. The Hawaiian soldier flinched, stopping the enraged private in his tracks. After a few moments of hesitation, Simmons continued forward more slowly, sitting down cautiously on the mattress. He reached towards Grif with a shaking hand and again asked, "Grif, what happened?"

The gentle tone of the redhead made Grif look up tentatively, unshed tears in his hazel eyes and fear written across his face. Simmons didn't know what to do; he had never seen Grif like this. Normally, the man would have been making sarcastic comments about Simmons or another member of Red team or even taking another nap. But this fearful, upset Grif was someone Simmons had never seen or wanted to see.

Grif's voice broke through his thoughts, the sound meek and timid, "…I fell. I fell down…and hurt myself."

Simmons frowned. This didn't sound like Grif. The normally orange-clad private had dropped his eyes down to the floor again, leaving Simmons in the dark about what really happened. Without another word, Simmons gently pried the ice pack away from Grif's cold fingers. Said private looked up in surprise and tensed up momentarily as his roommate reapplied the ice to his swollen and bruised cheek.

"When did this happen?"

Grif took a deep breath and then relaxed, shockingly enough, leaning into Simmons' touch before responding, "…About an hour ago. It was an accident…That's it."

One look from Simmons was enough to prove to Grif that he didn't believe a word of his story. Simmons' bright green eyes were boring holes through Grif, seeing easily through his lie.

"Simmons…please. Don't push it. Just leave it alone…" Grif's voice was defeated and soft, so unlike his normal tone. The look on his face was enough to make Simmons pause before he too relaxed.

Taking a few seconds to collect his thoughts, Simmons responded firmly, "Fine. I won't say anything this time. Grif, I know he doesn't treat you well, but he has no right to touch you like this. If it happens again…if it happens again, you are going to tell me and I am going to say something. Got it?"

Grif nodded and mumbled a quick, "Thanks."

Although Simmons didn't want to stay silent about the physical abuse of Grif, he didn't want to cause problems for Grif or betray his trust. So he decided to stay hush-hush and hope nothing else happened. Breaking away from his musings, he put the used ice pack onto the nightstand, getting a closer look at Grif's face.

A dark bruise had blossomed on Grif's cheekbone, the skin puffy and purple looking. His eyes strayed upwards to the cut on Grif's head. It didn't look too deep, but Simmons knew it needed to be cleaned to prevent infection. Reaching forward, he pulled the first aid kit off of the nightstand and placed it on the bed.

Grif looked at him questioningly, his eyes glossy with unsaid emotions. Simmons didn't respond to him immediately, instead opting to search for and take out an antiseptic wipe. He ripped open the package and pulled the wipe out. Motioning for Grif to lean forward, Simmons gently held Grif's head in place as he placed the wipe to the bloody cut.

A hiss escaped Grif's lips before he could stop himself, Simmons chuckling at the sound. He wiped the dried blood off of the tan skin of Grif and applied the antiseptic to the open wound on his forehead. After a few seconds, Simmons turned and threw the bloody wipe into the trashcan. He glanced up to Grif, about to speak. As he did, hazel eyes met emerald green eyes for a brief second in time, before both men looked away quickly, their cheeks flushing.

Simmons spoke after a few awkward seconds, "Well…the swelling should go down on your cheek. And the bleedings stopped so…um…yeah." Grif nodded uncertainly, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

"Yeah. Um…thanks…for you know…" His voice trailed off when he couldn't find the words to say.

"No problem. I'll, um, go get something for us to eat. That way…you can stay in here. If you'd like." Simmons flushed red again after talking, embarrassed by the words that just flowed out of his mouth.

Grif smiled uneasily, and nodded silently. The maroon soldier took his nod quietly and walked to the door, leaving his roommate with his jumbled thoughts and feelings. As he closed the door to his and Grif's room, he paused in the hallway and tried to still his racing heart. He tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach that seemed to appear magically when he had touched Grif. And he tried to calm his breathing, not wanting to acknowledge that there was something definitely there between him and Grif.

As he walked down the hallway towards the kitchen, Simmons was unaware that the soldier he had just left in his room was thinking the same thing.

How was it? Not my best for sure, but I hope it satisfies for now! I promise I will update quicker! Thanks for your feedback! Happy Thanksgiving!


	7. A Heart Not So Cold as Ice

Hey guys! I'm so sorry for not updating sooner! I've been super busy and I've had a hard time writing this chapter. I knew where I wanted to go with this chapter and I did not want to give too much detail but I wanted the intention of this chapter to be clear. So as always, please read and review and let me know if you have any questions or are confused about any parts. Thanks for all your reviews!

**StarsSky101: **Thanks so much for your review! You almost hit the nail on the head with your guesses. I won't give too much info away but the upcoming chapters will definitely help clarify why Sarge snapped and did this to Grif. Glad you enjoyed!

**AgentTex:** Thanks for the review! Glad you liked it and I hope this makes you happy.

**Rurple101: **Thanks so much for your suggestion. It's a great idea-I will definitely try to use it. It might not be until after the main plot is over and I have time to go back and fill in details. Who knows-maybe another story? Thanks for your review!

**Ayayne458:** Thanks for your review! I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter. I wanted to show gradual deterioration with Sarge and maybe the cause of it in some chapters. Hope you like!

**AgentDavidWashington:** Thanks so much! Glad you like this story! Hope this chapter is enough to tide you over until I update again. Thanks!

**LittleMissSunshine: **Thanks so much! I apologize for the long wait and I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations!

**Black_Jack278: **Don't worry about not reviewing sooner! I haven't updated in forever… 0_o Thanks for your review! I'm glad that Grif's excuse worked-I wanted characterize him as somebody whose being abused would. Thanks so much!

**Aniphine:** Thanks so much! This chapter is definitely not my best but I really wanted to get another one out for ya'll. Thanks again for your review!

Thanks for all your reviews! Please enjoy!

"Simmons! Grab my hand! Help!"

Grif's panicked yell echoed through the snowy cliffs, the orange private sliding toward the edge and his death. His maroon armored teammate sprang into action, throwing his assault rifle down and diving towards his falling friend.

Simmons stretched a gloved hand out, his fingers reaching out desperately for Grif. At the last possible second, just before the orange soldier disappeared over the edge of the cliff, their hands made contact.

"Hold on, hold on! Don't let go!" Grif's grip on Simmons' hand was tight but the red-haired soldier could feel that his hold slipping. Fear seized his heart, his green eyes wide. With every passing nanosecond, his fellow friend and teammate was slowly plunging to certain death.

A frightened gasp escaped the Hawaiian's lips as he felt his hands completely leave Simmons' grasp and his body start to descend rapidly toward the icy grave below. He flailed his arms in a panic, trying to grab Simmons or anything to anchor himself, but to no avail. As he plummeted down the cliff edge, he let out a cry of helplessness, Simmons' yell of his name echoing with his in the cold mountain range.

Simmons stood in shock; unwilling to glance over the cliff, least he see Grif's mangled body. He could feel his heart pounding in his ribcage, his breathing ragged with emotions. Tears sprang to his emerald green eyes as reality began to set in. Never again would Grif annoy him with his laziness or disgusting habits. Never again would Grif eat all the food in the base and leave his trash everywhere. Never again would Grif leave his side of the room like a hurricane went through it.

As much as Simmons bitched about Grif and nagged him about picking his armor and his stuff, Simmons really didn't know what he would do without Grif. And now…now he was without his best friend that he had spent the last few years with. Simmons swallowed and took a shuddering breath, trying to reign in his raging emotions. For nearly six years, Grif had been at his side, accompanying him through all of their crazy adventures-now…now Simmons had to face the rest of his military career and life without Grif-his best friend.

Wet, crunching footsteps sounded behind him, signaling Sarge's approach. Trying to gather his wits about him, Simmons prepared to turn and face his commanding officer, when he heard a voice that made his heart stop.

"Help! Simmons!"

Grif's yell for assistance was music to the maroon private's ears; Simmons dashed forward hastily, frantically looking over the lethal edge. About ten feet down, hanging onto the Meta's brute shot, was Private Dexter Grif. The weapon was wedged into the icy wall; Grif gripping the cold metal desperately. As each second passed, he felt himself slowly slipping towards certain death.

"Grif? Grif! Hang on!"

Simmons yelled down towards his teammate, elated to see him alive and but worried that Grif would soon lose his grip and plunge to his death. Turning around from where he was crouching, Simmons spotted Tucker running towards him. He knew there wasn't much time to waste and waved at the teal soldier to hurry.

Tucker skidded to a stop next to him, sending up a flurry of loose, powdery snow. Looking down at Simmons, he nodded to the red-haired man. Before beginning Grif's rescue, he turned to Caboose, yelling, "Caboose, come here! Now!"

Hearing an affirmation of his orders, Tucker turned back towards Simmons, "Caboose will anchor us. I'll hold onto you and lower you down to get Grif. 'Kay?"

Simmons nodded, taking a deep breath as he mentally readied himself. Gazing down at his orange companion, he hollered, "Grif, hang on! Tucker's going to lower me down to you. When he does, you'll need to grab hold of me. Got it?"

"Y-Yeah. I got it," Grif replied, yelping a bit at the end of his sentence as the Brute shot lowered even further. "Hurry up! This thing isn't going to hold for much longer!" Desperation and fear laced his voice as he sunk even further.

Simmons was silent as he watched Caboose grab Tucker's ankles, the teal soldier giving the maroon private a nod. Taking a deep breath, he kneeled down close to the edge, waiting until he felt Tucker's gloved hands wrap securely around his armored lower legs. Slowly, but surely, Simmons dropped off the cliff, hanging upside down and reaching out towards Grif.

The orange soldier waited until Simmons was close enough to grab him before shakily extending a hand to him. Simmons grasped his hand securely, long fingers wrapping around his wrist.

"Okay, Grif, give me your other hand! Hurry!"

Grif hesitated for a few seconds, afraid to let go of the one thing preventing him from falling to his death. His friend seemed to understand his feelings and spoke firmly, "I won't drop you Grif. I've got you."

Swallowing quickly and taking a deep intake of air, Private Grif counted to three and let go of the Brute shot, swinging his free hand up to clasp Simmons' hand tightly.

Grif panted, taking deep breaths and slowly calming himself down, plopped down in the snow under the watchful gaze of Simmons. The Hawaiian had taken off his helmet, his brown hair obscuring his eyes. As his heart rate slowly returned to normal and he could move without shaking, he turned to face his rescuer.

His red-headed friend was kneeling behind him, his own helmet removed, worry, concern, and…something else in his bright green eyes. Gathering his wits about him, Grif opened his mouth to talk when Simmons cut him off with a tight hug. A squeak escaped his lips as he was shocked by the open display of emotion that Simmons was showing. After a few moments of hesitation, Grif awkwardly returned the embrace.

"I'm glad you're okay. Don't ever do something like that again!"

Only years of knowing the maroon-armored soldier would let Grif know the true meaning behind those words. Even after years of bickering and name-calling, the two had become friends and Simmons had more than covered for Grif and kept some of his darkest secrets. As Grif looked into Simmons' eyes, he smiled gently and replied, "Don't worry. I don't think I'll be going cliff diving again anytime soon."

His response was met with a snort and a roll of the eyes as Simmons stood and held out a hand for Grif. Taking the hand for the second time in minutes, Grif allowed himself to be pulled up. As the two walked towards the rest of their companions, Grif couldn't help but be disappointed that their embrace hadn't lasted longer. Fortunately for Grif, the man he walked next to was sharing the same feelings.

If only their commanding officer hadn't been watching them closely and seeing what had occured between them.

Hope you like this chapter. It's definitely not my best but I feel bad for taking so long to update. Hopefully the next one won't take so long. Thanks again for reading!


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